The Fight in the Bathroom
by inkydoo
Summary: Booth and Bones are both mad at each other, but for different reasons. Takes place directly after Bones bursts into Booth's bathroom during "The Pain in the Heart." This is a conversation I think these two should have had. Works within the continuity of the episode.


Currently working on both my Trigun AND SWATH stories, but this one materialized before I knew what to do with myself. Takes place during the season 3 finale of Bones, "The Pain in the Heart," right after Brennan bursts into Booth's bathroom and they kind of have a fight... I felt like that scene should have had more to it. Reviews are always appreciated.

I think this is done, but there might be one more chapter...but maybe not...

* * *

After Bones burst into his bathroom and shouted at him, Booth tried his hardest to relax in his bathtub. After the call from Cam, though, he knew it wasn't going to happen, and he still felt like things weren't right between the two of them. He took the beer hat off before standing again and grabbing a towel. Booth took the needle off the vinyl record _much_ more gently than Bones had, but he didn't put his cigar out. This was _his_ bathroom in _his _apartment, after all.

Bones hadn't even called him to give him a warning that she was going to show up.

He stood in front of the mirror and looked at himself, bracing his arms on the sides of the sink, and tried to figure out why he was feeling so many different things at the moment. Just then, he heard a noise coming from another room in his apartment. He sighed, stood up straight, and wrapped the towel around his waist before opening the bathroom door. If she still wanted to fight, they were going to fight, and there would be no sucker punches or surprise attacks this time. This time, he would be ready.

He put his cigar out after all.

"Bones," he called, a little threateningly. "Where are y-" he stopped short as he looked down the hall to see Bones standing just a few feet away from him. She was staring at a picture hanging on the wall. Her hands were balled in fists, one wrapped around her and the other pressed to her face.

She looked angry. She looked sad. She didn't, however, look at him. He walked around to see what she was looking at. It was a picture of him with Parker, taken a few months ago at his last birthday party.

She surprised him when she spoke, her voice much stronger than he anticipated. "Did he know you were alive?" Booth interpreted her detached tone as one of accusation.

"He wasn't told anything," he growled defensively. "He's a little kid. Rebecca and Parker have been out of town for the last two weeks on vacation, set up by Uncle Sam." He rubbed his face tiredly, waiting for the next attack.

Bones stood there looking at the picture silently.

When she didn't say anything, he felt even more frustrated. "Are you going to judge how I handled that, too, Bones?" He turned around and walked into his bedroom to put on some pants. "Look, it has been a really long day, and I think you should go home," he called out over his shoulder. He pulled his jeans on and walked toward the hall again, still fairly angry. "I didn't do anything wrong, and you're treating me like I did," he growled at her as he walked out of his bedroom back toward the bathroom to hang up his towel.

As he walked by her, he tried to ignore that she hadn't moved an inch from where she had been standing staring at pictures, and that more than anything made him feel strange. It wasn't like her to hold her tongue, especially when someone was yelling at her. Once the towel was hanging from the corner of the bathroom door, he walked back towards her, stopped short a few paces, crossed his arms, and leaned against the wall. He still felt like she was judging him, and he didn't know what she was going to do next.

She stood in silence for a few more moments before she spoke. "You're angry at me."

Booth huffed out a breath. "Obviously, Bones. You clocked me today. You broke into my apartment." He felt like neither of these two things had anything to do with the way he was feeling, though. "You...you're angry at me!"

"Is it because I wasn't crying?" she asked.

"What?"

"You mentioned earlier that you thought I knew because I wasn't crying at the funeral. Did you think about it longer and then get angry because you thought that if I really cared, I would have been crying?"

He really didn't want to be having this conversation right now. "Look, it has been a long day and we have both been through a lot. Let's just leave this tonight and then we can talk about it tomorrow after we have both had a good night's sleep." He walked toward her slowly and put a hand on her shoulder to guide her out of his apartment, but he was surprised when he felt her lean into his touch.

"Why do you think I know where your key is?" she asked dryly without looking at him.

He was surprised by the change in the conversation and by the slight physical contact between them. "I...I...well, it's a rock. You said it yourself, it's probably not fooling a lot of people."

Bones stared at the wall while she talked, never taking her gaze off the pictures in front of her. "The ambulance picked you up and took you to the VA. They wouldn't let me ride with. I couldn't get inside. They wouldn't let me see you. Then they told me you had died." He felt her chest shudder slightly as she took another breath. "I," she started, "I came back here." She took a breath. "I slept in your bed. It smelled like you. I knew it wouldn't last forever. The particles in the cloth would eventually diffuse and it would lose that scent."

For some reason, that cold, dry, scientific way of looking at his bedsheets did something strange to his heart, and it twisted painfully in his chest. She really thought he had been dead. She had lived for two weeks thinking she would never see him again. He moved his hand from her shoulder down to her waist and pulled her into a one-armed hug. He saw her face when he turned her towards him. She looked him in the eyes.

"I'm crying now, so that should count for something, right?" For a moment, she practically glared at him through the tears, but then her eyes softened and she put both arms around him and held him closely.

"Shh...Bones. It's alright. I'm here," he tried to soothe her.

She didn't stop crying. "I understand death. Death is final. Death makes sense. You have a dangerous job. You could die at any moment. Anyone could die at any moment." He could feel her fingernails in the skin of his back. "What I don't understand is how, after knowing that you were gone forever, that you could somehow be back."

He sighed and held her tighter. "Mistakes were made. You were supposed to know. I am so sorry you weren't told." He rubbed the palm of his hand slowly around her shoulders. "I definitely would have contacted you if there had been any way I could have known that the ball had been so thoroughly dropped like this." He leaned his cheek against hers and sighed again. "I thought it had been taken care of. The next time this happens, I'll let you know. Personally."

She laughed and pulled away from him slightly to look him in the eyes. "The next time this happens, Cam is doing the autopsy and I am going to assist." Then she looked away shyly. "I hope you don't mind that I was in here when you were gone. I didn't think you'd mind, but now you're not dead..."

Booth squeezed her, then let her go and led her to the couch with his hand on the small of her back. "Do you want something to drink?" he asked as she sat down.

"Yes. Anything with alcohol," she stated without emotion.

He left for a few moments, then came back with two shot glasses and a bottle of liquor. He poured each of them a shot. They looked each other in the eyes, raised their glasses, then downed them.

He smiled at her and she smiled back, but he saw that her eyes were filling with tears again, and before he knew it, she was leaning forward with her head in her hands and she was sobbing. He was completely dismayed by this sudden explosion of emotions. He took her shot glass and filled it with alcohol. "Bones, Bones. Come on. Sit up and drink this. You'll feel better," he coaxed, trying to calm her down.

She did as she was told and knocked the liquor back. She was trying to get her emotions under control, but she was having a hard time. Between sobs, he managed to make out what she was trying to say: "I took your blanket. It's in the bag by the door."

He couldn't help but laugh a little. "Is that where that went? I was wondering..." He poured her one more shot and handed it to her and she downed it quickly. Then he pulled her closer to him and leaned them both against the back of the couch. "Come on, everything is going to be alright now." She curled up at his side and pressed her face against his shoulder as she continued to cry. "Bones, did I make a mistake in coming back?" he joked.

She shook her head without raising it. Her speech was muffled, but still understandable. "No, I just don't expect people to come back once they leave."

His heart did that painful sideways lurch in his chest again. "I promise you this will never happen again. I will find out what happened tomorrow, okay?" She nodded against his shoulder. He sighed. "Look, just stay here tonight. You're going to be feeling the alcohol in a few minutes and I don't want you driving around." He moved to get up to get her a pillow and a blanket, but she tightened her grip on him.

"Can we just stay here like this for a little while?" she asked.

He was always so taken aback at how direct she could be, at how naïve she sounded when she just asked for what she wanted, like everything between them really was that simple. He pulled her closer as he sank back into the couch. "Sure, Bones. Anything you want."


End file.
